Chapter 127: A Trembling Across Time

Finn’s mouth was dry. This was far more than he’d expected, as was the case with literally everything about him. Time and again some grand purpose kept surfacing about his identity, requiring him to take steps he otherwise would never have.

But what could he do? The alternative was remaining weak. Remaining vulnerable. Continuing to stumble through fragment mastery by trial and error while threats closed in from every direction.

“How long?” he asked. “In real time. If I do this, how long will I be gone?”

“Minutes, perhaps. An hour at most.” Madoc’s expression was unreadable. “Time is relative. Especially when you’re experiencing someone else’s timeline. You could live years in his memories and return to find only moments have passed here.”

“And you’re certain I’ll come back?”

“No.” Madoc bluntly replied. “I’ve seen convergence points where you return. But I’ve also glimpsed branches where you don’t. Where your consciousness becomes so thoroughly integrated with your fragment’s original bearer that you simply… cease to exist. Only the other remains.”

He turned to face Finn fully again.

“But I’ve also seen what happens if you don’t do this. The Husk arrives. We all die. The island becomes a wasteland of spatial-temporal distortion. The chaos wielders’ reign begins. All form of order is lost to—”

“I get it,” Finn interrupted. “Apocalyptic consequences.”

“Quite.”

Silence stretched between them. Behind Finn, he could sense Osmund still watching from the treeline. Probably too far away to hear their conversation, but close enough to intervene if Madoc attacked.

Not that it would matter. If Madoc wanted him dead, Finn suspected the tall Anaelle could accomplish it before Osmund crossed half the clearing.

“If I agree,” Finn said slowly, “what’s the process? How do you send my consciousness back?”

“It’s complicated. And taxing for both of us.” Madoc gestured toward the eastern edge of the clearing. “We’d need to go to my sanctum. A place where I’ve spent decades anchoring temporal threads since my fragment allowed me to start sensing them via my understanding of space. A place where the flow of causality is more… malleable.”

“And then?”

“And then I create a bridge. A connection between your consciousness and the moment when your fragment’s original bearer first began their journey. Before they became whatever they eventually became. When they were young, inexperienced, still discovering their power.” Madoc’s eyes gleamed. “You’ll experience everything they experienced. Make the choices they made. Live the life they lived. All of it, from that starting point forward.”

“For how long? In their timeline?”

“Until a critical juncture is reached. A moment that crystallizes something essential about the fragment’s nature.” Madoc shrugged slightly. “Could be months. Could be years. Could be decades. I can’t predict the exact duration — only that it will be long enough to matter.”

Finn’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. This was insane. Absolutely insane. Letting himself be sent into the past, into another person’s life, with no guarantee he’d come back as himself…

But the memory of being Arros in Brambleton surfaced. The way that brief experience had given him insight into Error’s use. The way it had helped him create a spell in a single day that should have taken weeks. A spell that was an offshoot of something so powerful, he couldn’t even wrap his head around how broken it was.

If a few minutes as Arros had done that much, what would extended immersion accomplish?

And not just only that. If he proceeded with this, he was certain he would get all the answers he sought. About the true history of the world — not one retold through someone else. About Error. The Transcendents. Mana. Gods… Faith.

“I need a guarantee,” Finn said finally. “Something that ensures I come back. That anchors me to being Finn Slade, not just the original bearer.”

Madoc considered this, tilting his head in thought. “I can create a tether. A conceptual anchor tied to your current identity. It won’t prevent you from fully experiencing the other life — that’s necessary for the integration to work. But it will pull you back eventually. Force the return when the critical juncture is reached.”

“How strong is this tether?”

“Strong enough… probably.” Madoc’s casual tone was not reassuring. “You need to understand I’ve never done this before. I’m only extrapolating from theoretical knowledge on what should most likely happen, and also from fragmentary temporal glimpses. But the convergence points suggest it works, so…” He shrugged. “It should work.”

“’Should work,’” Finn repeated dryly. “Fantastic.”

“Do you want certainty or results? Because in my experience, you rarely get both.” Madoc’s expression was challenging now. “Make your choice, Pioneer. Stay here, remain weak, hope you somehow survive what’s coming through raw talent and luck. Or take the risk. Dive into the past. Return with power and knowledge that could actually make a difference.”

Finn looked back at Osmund. The short man was still watching, but his expression was unreadable at this distance. Had he known this was what Madoc would offer? Was that why he’d been so eager for him to come here?

Of course he knew.

He literally said Madoc had seen this coming…

Finn turned back to Madoc, meeting those intense pale gray eyes.

“If I agree, we do it now. No delays, no time to second-guess.”

“Agreed.”

“And you tell Osmund what’s happening. If I don’t come back, or if something goes wrong, I feel he should know.”

“Acceptable.”

“And…” Finn hesitated, then pressed on. “And if I do come back different. If I come back as someone else and not as Finn. End me immediately. Don’t let my body walk around as some other consciousness inhabits it.”

Madoc’s expression softened fractionally, but not particularly in sympathy, rather, something close to respect.

“If you return as someone fundamentally different, I’ll know. And I’ll do what needs doing.” He extended one hand for a shake. “Do we have an accord?”

Finn looked at the offered hand, then at the pale gray eyes that held knowledge of futures that might never be.

This is insane. Absolutely fucking insane.

He reached out and clasped Madoc’s hand.

“We have an accord.”

The moment their hands touched, Finn felt the significance of it. A sort of finality. Like this was a turning point that had just set a stone rolling — a stone that would tumble till it made the world tremble across time.

Madoc’s grip was firm, to the point where it was almost painful, jarring Finn from his philosophical reverie. “Then let’s not waste any more time. The longer you deliberate, the more chance you’ll change your mind. And we both know this needs to happen.”

He released Finn’s hand and turned toward the eastern edge of the clearing, gesturing for Finn to follow.

“Stay close. The path to my sanctum winds through some of the most severely distorted space on the island. If you wander off, I might not find you until you’ve aged a few days older. Relatively speaking.”

“Comforting,” Finn muttered, but he followed.

As they walked, Finn glanced back one more time at Osmund. The short man raised one hand in what might have been farewell or acknowledgment, nodding once.

Then Finn turned forward and didn’t look back again.

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